On reality television shows
by csfcsf
Summary: One scene. Over at Baker Street, Sherlock and John discuss reality shows (not really) over mint drops and carbonated drinks (not really either).


_**.**_

'Here's another one of those annoying emails', John reproached at the laptop screen, in a lazy afternoon at Baker Street.

'Hm?' Sherlock lowered the mint drops he was picking up with tweezers to insert into a large rubber balloon hanging upside down, full of soda, prepped in the kitchen, behind John's armchair. That was going to be _educational_. Expecting a geyser-like sort of reaction with the soda bursting out of the balloon, for the sole purpose of assessing if the malleable rubber of the container affected the results, in three - two - ...

'Another producer, wanting to make a dozen episodes of "The Life of Sherlock Holmes", trailing behind us to crime scenes and chasing suspects.'

There was a hint of vanity in Sherlock Holmes as he took notice of the interest producers had on his deductive methods, swiftly followed by the uncomfortable feeling of being overly exposed to people whose interest he didn't understand. Well, John would manage that, John was the people's person in their team.

'Hm', Sherlock said at last, with no definite intonation. Still, he reached back to the mints package.

'Can you imagine what it would be like to confront a suspect with a camera aimed at them, and a microphone hanging over our heads?' John further asked over his shoulder to the detective, without even turning.

'Could be useful for Scotland Yard if the suspect confessed on tape.'

'True.' John pondered for a couple of seconds before adding: 'Couldn't take my illegal gun with me.'

'Guess not, Captain Watson. Or they could just edit those segments out in post-production.'

'And the cameras would follow us chasing criminals down narrow alleys and jumping over fences and rooftops?'

Sherlock was picking up extra mints from the package so to drop several at the same time on the carbonated drink.

'Better not. You could take a hand camera, though. You're my blogger, John. Why not a video blog of some sort? You know, keep up with the times, hardly anyone writes these days.'

John nagged back: 'Still plenty of people writing out there, Sherlock.'

'Hm', Sherlock said, deciding on three mint drops. No, better make it five.

'Not all of our cases are all that exciting, though. Sometimes you solve them without leaving the flat.'

Better make it seven while he's at it. 'Hm, hm...'

'And the rest of the time it's just us. Why would anyone find _me_ interesting to waste time on, is beyond me.'

Sherlock lowered the mints again. 'Nonsense, John. For an ordinary person, you're actually quite... _acceptable_.'

'Cheers', John replied with the customary sarcasm required. Sherlock didn't mind.

He knew John was aware that Sherlock enjoyed his company no matter what he said. Or John would have long been thrown out of the said flat by the impulsive detective. Mrs Hudson had been thrown out once, on a particularly bad bout mood. Just once, though, and he actually made it up to her afterwards. Sure she had left several other times, because he had made it impossible for her to say, but the decision had always come from her, and to Sherlock that distinction was essential. He'd never throw Mrs H out again.

When saying "throw", it wasn't literal, obviously.

Not like Sherlock had almost done to Lestrade. Many times. When he had come accompanied by his Scotland Yard minions. Yes, Lestrade had also come very close, several times.

John, well John, was the polar opposite.

Sherlock could almost count the thousands of times he wanted to throw John Watson out of the flat. There had been nagging about eating and sleeping to a doctor's standard. There had been indexes out of order. Human parts experiments ruined by careless health hazard considerations. There had been that one time John Watson had miserably forfeit on a board game because _"Sherlock, you can't make up rules as you go along!"_

Just like Mrs H and Lestrade, he had driven John out of his mind instead. There was something paradoxically comforting in making John's stay at Baker Street miserable every once in a while. Because he never left. Sure, he'd go to the park, for a cooling off walk, or to the supermarket, insisting the milk mustn't be expired, or even to the pub, for a pint and miserable drunk conversations over football games.

John was driven out of his mind by Sherlock, and always found his mind back and returned.

Therefore, John was interesting to the mad scientist brooding over mints and soft drinks for lack of a proper case.

Have the camera crew do what they will with that! Sherlock was sure to provide them with hours of extra footage to edit, one crazy (pardon: _scientific_) experiment after the next.

'Sherlock?' John interrupted the detective's thoughts, halting him with a hand mid air, full of mints.

'Hm?' He turned to John, still sitting with his back to him.

'_Don't you dare._'

Sherlock smirked, with a glow in his eyes.

_**.**_

* * *

_A/N: Needless to say, the (safe) science classes experiment is not as described (__AKA__ this really shouldn't be tried at home).  
__Wrote this because I write weird things when sitting by the phone waiting for it to ring. In other words: for no good reason. -csf_

_Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or their previous feats._


End file.
